


if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

by amidtheflowers, kiwigirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwigirl/pseuds/kiwigirl
Summary: All Darcy wants when she steps outside is a breath of fresh air and a break from the rich kids sneering down their noses at her. What she gets is a breath of fresh air, a break from the rich kids, and a guy in the woodshed with a seriously big gun.What's up with that, and will she ever see him again?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis
Comments: 49
Kudos: 173
Collections: Marching Orders





	1. Moodboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moodboard is by amidtheflowers :)

[](https://imgur.com/12bDtcn)


	2. Ficlet

Darcy needed to get outside.

Most of the time, she was a big fan of the indoors, especially when indoors was a beautifully rustic chalet with actual log fires. Unfortunately, this particular chalet was also filled with a crowd of Ivy Leaguers who would rather spend their Christmas break getting drunk in a chalet in the Colorado Rockies than in the Hamptons with the family who funded their lavish lifestyles. They weren’t Darcy’s usual crowd, but her cousin was marrying one of them so she’d been invited along as a sort of charity case.

There were a few of them who wouldn’t let her forget that, either. Stacey Summers - of the Virginian Summers - wouldn’t stop the condescending compliments on Darcy’s ‘unique style’ and Hayley Deveraux waited until Darcy had gulped down three glasses of cranberry juice to inform her that they had filled that bottle with excess mixed cosmopolitans, vodka and all.

Now here she was, grumpy, embarrassed, and more than a little bit tipsy as she slipped out the back door into the snow. The crisp air stung her face but she didn’t care, wandering around the clearing outside until her nose and ears hurt. Loathe to go back to the so-called party, she focussed on the woodshed to the left of the door. It looked quiet, and dark, and temptingly empty.

It was not empty.

As she stepped inside, a pool of shadows by the small window coalesced into a man. Long dark hair, pale skin, and she couldn’t make much else of him out.

“Uh, hi!” she chirped. “Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone else was here. Mind if I -” she gestured vaguely at a stool. Without waiting for an answer, she dropped down onto it. “This entire trip was such a mistake,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, before glancing over at her companion. “So, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? And by a place like this, I mean the woodshed, and by a guy like you, I mean a guy with a… really large gun…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Was he a hunter? Mike had mentioned people liked to hunt in these woods, but what was one doing here? Sure there were rules about taking shelter in someone else's property.

Silence as Darcy weighed her chances of getting to the door, then, “Joseph Carmichael,” he said, his voice a rasp that cut through her panic.

She screwed up her face. “Wait. You’re Joseph Carmichael? Hayley said you’d blown this trip off to party with your creep friends and their cocaine in the Caribbean. What are you doing in here?”

She sensed rather than heard him sigh. “I’m looking for Joseph Carmichael.”

“Ohh. Well, he’s not here. He’s in the Caribbean. With the creeps.”

“And cocaine,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, don’t forget the cocaine. Not sure how anyone could forget cocaine, though I've heard it looks a lot like talcum powder so I suppose if you thought it was that, you might.”

"Do you ever stop talking?"

At the abrupt question, she snorted. "Talking's one of my superpowers," she told him. "I can do this all day."

He stilled, seeming to almost melt into back into the shadows, then he shook his head once as if coming to a decision.

Darcy frowned as some part of her realised she'd missed something she'd probably rather not know. “You know, I’m just going to… go back inside.” Using the pile of logs beside her for leverage, she hauled herself upright and stumbled outside. The thin layer of snow dazzled her with reflected mid-afternoon sun and she shielded her eyes against the glare. Half-turning back to peer into the woodshed, she found herself suddenly face-to-face — well, face-to-chest with the mystery guy. “You’re really tall,” she mumbled.

“You’re really drunk,” he observed.

Given the way her head was swimming, she found it difficult to argue. She was trying to put together a reply when he hefted that gun — and swung it onto his back. His eyes never leaving hers, he took a step backwards, and another, and then turned and vanished into the woods.

“Darcy?”

She near about jumped out of her skin at her cousin’s voice. “Sheesh, Beth, you scared me!”

Beth stood in the doorway, a martini glass in her hand. “Darcy, what are you doing out here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“There was a guy -” Darcy said, “- and he — Joseph Carmichael?”

“Joey’s not here this weekend, remember?” Beth stepped outside and looped her arm through Darcy’s. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I’ve had about all I can stand of Mike’s friends for now and I want to hear about your internship for next semester .”

Darcy glanced over her shoulder but there was nothing to see but the trees. Sighing, she followed her cousin inside.

* * *

_Some years later_

“Hey Jane,” Darcy nudged her friend. “Who’s that?”

Jane squinted in the direction Darcy pointed. “I think that’s Nat, isn’t it? She said she’d be bringing another guard to the safehouse some time today.”

Darcy brightened as another figure appeared behind the Russian assassin. “Maybe she’s bringing Clint. He’s always good for a laugh.”

“Last time I saw him, you threw a bag of flour at him and it exploded in his face.”

“Only because he wouldn’t stop using his magnetic arrows to fiddle with my oven settings,” Darcy grumbled before brightening. “Out here, I’m the only source of baked goods there is. He ruins my eclairs, he has to deal with Nat.”

“Yeah, and Nat gets cranky when she’s dessert-deprived.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Darcy grinned at Jane’s look of outrage. “Come on, let’s go out and meet them.”

“You go. I have to check on my readings. If I miss this confluence, this entire time in hiding will be for nothing.”

“Okay, boss lady. You go and save the world, I’ll go and find my scarf.”

By the time she’d located her favourite scarf and her coat, the two figures were close enough for Darcy to see that while one was Nat, the other certainly wasn’t Clint. For one thing, he was taller. Like, a LOT taller. Also, his bare head was dark, while Clint never went out during winter without one of his collection of garishly-coloured knit caps.

Memory twinged as she crunched through the snow towards them. “You made it!” she called, careful not to let her voice carry too far. “We thought we’d have to put up with SHIELD goons stomping around the lab forever.”

Nat raised a delicate eyebrow. “They are here for your protection, remember?”

“Secret agents or not, if they break one of the machines, they’ll be the ones who need protection. From Jane.” As she talked, Darcy flicked her gaze over the guy next to Nat. Despite her lighthearted banter, she had the feeling that she was forgetting something. “And who’s this?” she asked brightly, as they began walking back to the safehouse together.

“Darcy, this is Yasha. He’s here as part of the security detail.”

Something like a growl emerged from him, the first sound Darcy’d heard him make. “I prefer Bucky,” he muttered.

“Ookay, Bucky it is. I hope she’s warned you about keeping your hands to yourself in the lab,” she told him, mock seriously.

Blue-grey eyes studied her as if trying to assess if she was joking. Belatedly, Darcy realised her words could be taken two ways. A blush heated her cheeks as she ignored the snicker from Nat’s direction. “Come inside and get settled in,” she gabbled. “Looks like you didn’t bring too much. Just one bag and a — a big-ass gun.” She stopped dead as memory slid into focus.

“Are you all right?” he sounded concerned. “I can put the gun away if-”

“N-no, it’s fine.” Darcy craned her neck to look up at him. Yep, still really tall. The inane thought served to calm her racing mind. “You still hiding out in woodsheds? Because we’ve got one around the back, but if you’d prefer to be in the main building we can make that happen as well.”

“Woodsheds? What do you mean?” He looked down at her, confused.

“Uhhh…” she searched her memory, trying to push past the years and the fog of alcohol. “Joey Carmichael?”

A pause, and then he flinched, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “I should go.”

“What?” she frowned up at him. “Why would you have to go? You just got here.”

“You wouldn’t want me around,” he told her, his voice harsh. “Natalia, tell her.”

“Tell her yourself,” Nat fired back. “I’m going to get warm.” She hesitated at the doorway and glanced back at them. Her expression softened. “He’s good people, Darcy. You can trust him.”

Once Nat had disappeared inside, Darcy turned back to him and shrugged. “Well, there you have it. If Nat vouches for you, I’m all good.”

“She has terrible taste,” Bucky muttered.

“Au contraire, she is the only person I know who can tell me what type of honey I use in my banana bran muffins. She has _excellent_ taste.”

“Baking and people are two very different things.”

“And me and that girl you met so many years ago are two very different people. For instance, I am not drunk, and I can tell the difference between cranberry juice and cosmopolitans.” She cocked her head at him. “I’m guessing you and the guy I met are two pretty different people as well.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Great!” With that, she grabbed his hand and towed him inside.


End file.
